


An Adrestian Tail 1.5: El and Bernie's Valentine's Day Holiday Special

by AMX004_Qubeley



Series: The Mice-Adventures of Mousegard [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Animal Transformation, Awkward Dates, Established Relationship, F/F, Size Difference, Slow Dancing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:54:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29437119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AMX004_Qubeley/pseuds/AMX004_Qubeley
Summary: “If I had a gold coin for every time I’ve been turned into a mouse,” Edelgard said as she stood atop the palm of Bernadetta’s hand, “I would have two gold coins. Which isn’t a lot,” she added, nervously smoothing back a ruffled patch of her fur, “but it’s weird that it happened twice.”In the middle of a lovely date with her girlfriend, Edelgard von Hresvelg somehow turns into a mouse again. But neither she nor her darling Bernadetta von Varley are going to let that spoil their special day together! A semi-canon and completely self-contained "sequel" to An Adrestian Tail.Happy Valentine's Day!
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg/Bernadetta von Varley
Series: The Mice-Adventures of Mousegard [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2162295
Comments: 11
Kudos: 29





	An Adrestian Tail 1.5: El and Bernie's Valentine's Day Holiday Special

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [An Adrestian Tail](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22093897) by [AMX004_Qubeley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AMX004_Qubeley/pseuds/AMX004_Qubeley). 



“If I had a gold coin for every time I’ve been turned into a mouse,” Edelgard said as she stood atop the palm of Bernadetta’s hand, “I would have two gold coins. Which isn’t a lot,” she added, nervously smoothing back a ruffled patch of her fur, “but it’s weird that it happened twice.”

Though only a few minutes or so ago (her memory was a bit hazy) she’d been human, Edelgard was currently a mouse roughly three inches tall (six if one measured from tip to tail, though she’d rather measure from head to foot… or rather head to paw), weighing roughly one-third of an ounce. She had silken white fur and a long silvery mane, and if she hadn’t been colorblind and had access to a mirror she would have seen that her paws, her tail, the insides of her ears, and the tip of her nose were as pink as rosebuds. She was twitchy, no matter how hard she struggled to control herself: her ears would twitch to hone in on whatever sounds they heard, her sharp little snout would twitch with every new scent it caught, the forest of wiry white whiskers that sprouted from her cheeks would twitch with every change in the air, and her tail would twitch to and fro and flick its tip whenever she was irritated (and currently, it was very active).

Bernadetta, who had learned quite a lot about mice in the past few months, let a fingertip rest between her ears and slide down her spine to the base of her tail. The warm and gentle touch was soothing enough that despite her situation Edelgard felt far more at ease, and in accordance her tail ceased its twitching and flicking. “A-Are you alright, El?”

“As alright as I can be, I suppose. Thank you, Bernadetta,” Edelgard said, allowing herself to lie down and curl up atop Bernadetta’s palm. It was as though she were lying on a warm mattress, soft and yielding yet firm.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that, Your Highness,” said Hubert as he knelt down and dutifully collected and folded the disheveled heap of clothes that mere minutes ago had fit her perfectly, picking out bits of ceramic from an empty teacup that had fallen to the floor and shattered. “What did you say?”

“Nothing,” she called out, raising her voice so that he would hear something other than a barely-intelligible squeak. “I was merely expressing how interesting this is. Most people aren’t turned into mice _once_ in their entire lives, let alone twice.”

“You seem to be in admirably high spirits, Lady Edelgard,” he said. “As I recall, the first time this happened, you were…”

Edelgard did not like to think about the first time. Certain moments _during_ the first time she thought about often and with fondness, but aside from those she tried to set the mouse incident as far out of her mind as possible.

“Who was it who said, ‘history repeats itself, first as tragedy, then as farce?’” she asked. Truthfully, though, her current state likely had less to do with some aphoristic maxim than with the fact that she was being petted. Pets, scratches behind the ears, and so on and so forth were a unique pleasure for creatures with fur that humans just couldn’t understand.

Hubert thought for a moment. “I don’t recall,” he admitted as he very respectfully and with painstaking care addressed the problem of his liege’s involuntarily discarded undergarments. “I suppose you could take credit for it.” He folded the clothes into a neat rectangle and tucked it under his arm. “Now, Lady Edelgard, shall I investigate how this happened first, or shall I see to procuring the antidote?”

“Antidote, please,” Edelgard said, sinking deeper into Bernadetta’s palm. “There’s no telling how time-consuming it will be to wrest any of it from Yuri, provided he has any left over.”

Hubert stood up, towering over both Edelgard and Bernadetta (he always did, but now he towered even moreso), and bowed, which from Edelgard’s perspective barely made a difference. “As you wish, Lady Edelgard.”

“And,” Edelgard added, lifting her paw.

“And of course,” he added, “I shall bring your clothes to your room.”

“To the laundry,” Edelgard corrected. “I turned into a mouse while I was wearing them. I’d like them washed.”

Hubert looked at the neat little rectangle of clothes pinned between his arm and his side and realized that he hadn’t needed to bother folding them in the first place. “Yes,” he said. “Bernadetta, I take it I can trust you, as Her Highness’s left wing, to watch Lady Edelgard for me?”

Bernadetta snapped to attention and nodded. “O-Of course! You can count on Bernie! I’ll make sure she’s comfortable, cared for, fed, and so on…” Her cheeks were turning pinker, or what Edelgard assumed was pinker (damned colorblindness made everything look slightly yellowish), by the second.

Hubert’s lips cracked into an uncharacteristically warm smile. “I suppose that question might as well be rhetorical. Very well. I leave her, quite literally, in your capable hands.”

As he left, Bernadetta held Edelgard closer to her chest, cupping both hands around her. “Well,” she said with a sigh, “this is happening again, I guess. At least it’s just one of us this time. So, um, El…”

“Yes, by all means, let us continue our date,” Edelgard said. “There is little else I can do right now, anyway.”

“Your room or mine?”

“Yours,” Edelgard murmured, settling into her embrace. Enclosed by both of Bernadetta’s hands, she found herself engulfed by a warm and comforting darkness broken only by the faint shafts of light in the gaps between her fingers. She could feel Bernadetta’s fingers gently and loosely curl tighter around her tiny body, one palm the ground beneath her paws, the other the roof over her head. Darkness and the threat of restraint tended to distress her, but this time was different. Right now, everywhere she turned, above and below, to every side, Bernadetta was there. The first time she’d been turned into a mouse, she’d have lost her mind in a matter of hours if Bernadetta hadn’t been there for her. And now Bernadetta was _everywhere._

She felt herself rise higher into the air. _“What?”_ Bernadetta asked her.

“Your room,” Edelgard said, louder this time. “If you’d like.”

Bernadetta began to walk, slowly and carefully, the rhythm of her gait like the steady rocking of a carriage in motion. It was almost enough to lull Edelgard to sleep; it was certainly enough to make her lose track of time. Hardly a few moments had passed before Bernadetta’s hands split open like a clamshell and very gently deposited her on the seemingly endless expanse of her pillow.

The pillow, of course, was _very_ soft, soft enough that she could sink into it like quicksand, and smelled as though it and the bedsheets had all been freshly washed, but the second she felt the down-stuffed silk yield beneath her paws, Edelgard decided that she vastly preferred Bernadetta’s hand, so she grabbed hold of a finger and scampered back onto her palm.

“Oh!” Bernadetta yelped. “Your claws… tickle a bit. Sorry—I just thought you’d like something soft to lie on…”

Self-conscious, Edelgard eased her claws out of Bernadetta’s skin. She’d forgotten she had them. There were so many things about being a mouse that she’d forgotten, since after the incident she’d hoped she would never have to remember them. Things like having whiskers and a tail… and claws.

“My apologies,” Edelgard said. “Simply put, your hand is more than soft enough. If you’re willing to offer it to me, I have no need for a pillow.”

She had thought it sounded quite romantic, but as soon as the words left her mouth, she found herself wishing that she hadn’t said them.

Bernadetta’s cheeks flushed. “Y-You don’t mean that…” she stammered, flustered. Her lips twitched and her mouth split open into a nervous grin that showed a sliver of her teeth.

“Bernadetta, we have been almost literally through hell and back together. I have no reason to lie to you.”

“Well, if you think my hand’s softer than a pillow, then you’re definitely buttering me up.”

“Perhaps it isn’t softer, but it’s certainly warmer.”

“Oh… uh, I suppose so.”

“And it smells nice.”

Bernadetta’s brow furrowed. With her still at her normal size and Edelgard over five feet shorter than usual, even the smallest detail of her face, the subtlest shift in her expression, was magnified. “My… hand smells nice?”

“Well, I suppose it smells like the rest of you.” Edelgard wasn’t much of a flirt in the best of times (certainly not as adept as the likes of Dorothea), and this was most definitely not the best of times.

The rest of Bernadetta’s face flushed, right up to the tips of her ears. “I guess… I was in the greenhouse this morning, transplanting a few peonies and watering Bernie Junior—”

“I thought you said succulents don’t need water.”

“Not _often._ Anyway, you’re probably just smelling the flowers on me.”

Edelgard shook her head. “No, I’m not smelling flowers.”

“The tea we had, then… before you, uh… turned into a mouse again.”

“I don’t think it’s that, either. It’s _you.”_ Edelgard rested her head against the hollow of Bernadetta’s upturned wrist, and with her ear pressed to her skin, she could hear and feel the steady throbbing of her pulse through her veins. “It’s subtle… so subtle, I hardly pay it any mind as a human. But as a mouse, it’s inescapable.”

“I can go and wash my hands if you’d like!”

She felt Bernadetta’s pulse quicken and sought to slow it. “No, I’d rather you didn’t.” She couldn’t quite put into words what Bernadetta smelled like—human words seemed to fall short of describing what she could only experience as a mouse—but it was a comforting and inviting scent that filled her nostrils. And, yes, a hint of a floral bouquet and dirt from the greenhouse. “Now, I don’t mean to impose, but I’d prefer if you kept petting me.”

Edelgard hardly had to wait more than a moment before she felt the tip of Bernadetta’s finger run down her spine again. She shuddered with pleasure, sinking deeper into her one-sided embrace, listening to Bernadetta’s pulse hum through her wrist while the tip of her fingernail slipped through her fur. She felt a thumb rub against one of her ears in smooth, slow, gentle strokes like a paintbrush on a canvas. Bernadetta’s hand repositioned itself and Edelgard felt a fingernail slip under her chin. She let her tail curl itself around one of Bernadetta’s fingers.

She sighed, mumbling Bernadetta’s name. It was heavenly, the feeling of being caressed by the hand of a gentle giant, and what giant could possibly be more gentle than her dear Bernie-Bear? When poems and psalms spoke of the tender embrace of the Goddess, surely whatever they had imagined could not have possibly compared to this.

Bernadetta lifted her higher and brought her hand close to her face. Edelgard could feel the gentle rhythm of her breath against her whiskers. “You like this?” she asked her.

“Only as long as it’s you, dear,” Edelgard answered, her head filled with a pleasant fog. Being a mouse wasn’t so bad, or at least it wasn’t intolerable, in these circumstances.

At ease, Bernadetta gently lowered herself onto the bed, resting her cupped hand and Edelgard in her lap. But she’d hardly sat down before leaping to her feet. Edelgard grabbed a hold of her finger and dug in her claws to keep herself from being thrown to the floor.

 _“Oh, crap!”_ Bernadetta cried out. “I—I left my bag at the greenhouse! A-And it had my story in it!”

“You’re writing a story?” Edelgard squeaked as she caught her breath and steadied herself.

“Yes, and if anyone reads it, Bernie’s gonna die!” Bernadetta looked to the door, apprehensively biting her lips.

“What’s it about?”

“Well, it’s about a shy, nervous girl with an anxiety problem—totally fictional, not based on anybody—and a princess—again, not based on anyone you know—who get turned into mice and go on an adventure and—and, uh…”

“It sounds like an amazing story,” Edelgard said knowingly. “A completely fictional story, of course.”

“Yes, but _no one can ever read it!_ Oh… I’ve got to go get it… but what if I lose you outside? You’d never forgive me! And neither would Hubert! He’d kill me!”

“Oh, Bernadetta, I’d forgive you,” Edelgard said.

“You wouldn’t if you were stuck in the belly of a cat!” Bernadetta hurried over to her desk and deposited Edelgard on its surface. “You can, um… just wait here. Where it’s safe. And warm. A-And I’ll be right back! M-Maybe with some food for snacking on, too?”

Edelgard picked herself up. She felt her stomach growl. Somehow, being reduced to a creature standing three inches tall and weighing less than half an ounce worked up an appetite. “That would be nice…”

Bernadetta smacked herself on the forehead. “Ugh, Bernie! There were all those little biscuits and finger sandwiches in the teahouse you could’ve taken with you, you idiot! Now El’s gonna starve and it’ll all be your fault—”

“I’ll be fine,” Edelgard assured her. “I’m in no danger of wasting away. I doubt I’ll find myself shrinking even smaller than this in the near future—unless I ingest some ingenious new poison that transforms me into a flea or a gnat.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’ll stay right here and wait for you. It won’t take too long.”

Bernadetta hesitantly offered her hand to her, and Edelgard took it and gently nuzzled her nose against her fingertip.

Emboldened, she left the room and left Edelgard to her own devices.

Bernadetta had an untidy desk, to say the least. There were papers with half-finished sketches strewn across its surface, spools of thread, sewing needles, and half-finished handmade dolls. Bernadetta liked making little plush models of her favorite plants, insectivorous pitcher plants and flytraps and desert succulents with thick, spiny leaves. When Edelgard crossed the desk and sat under their shade, she could imagine herself a traveler in a foreign jungle filled with fantastic and towering flora.

But Bernadetta did not just make greenery out of felt and cotton.

Something else caught Edelgard’s eye. Off in the corner was what looked like a newly finished doll. It was small, about her size, and about her shape, though its limbs were fat little stumps. It was a mouse. A mouse with mousy brown fur and a presumably violet (damned colorblindness) crest resting atop its head between its ears.

Did her eyes deceive her, she asked as she crept closer to it, or had Bernadetta made herself a self-portrait of herself in felt and cotton? Further inspection confirmed it. This was a replica of the girl she had fallen in love with.

Soon after their little mice-adventure, Bernadetta had sewn a life-size doll of Edelgard as she had looked as a mouse; she’d even incorporated the patch of red cloth and lavender ribbon she’d used as a cloak. Actually, she’d sewn two of them, because Edelgard had wanted one sent to her father in Enbarr. Edelgard had told her that a mouse-sized Edelgard just wasn’t complete without a mouse-sized Bernadetta to go with it, and it seemed Bernadetta had taken that to heart.

Edelgard took the plush doll’s head in her paws and stared it in the little gray buttons Bernadetta had used for its eyes. She could remember when Bernadetta had looked like this like it was yesterday. Before the incident, she’d never imagined she could look at a rodent’s face and see anything even approximating beauty, but Bernadetta had been the prettiest mouse she’d ever laid eyes on, and this was quite a charming little facsimile in its simplicity. It would make an excellent friend for the little mouse doll currently resting on Edelgard’s desk.

Edelgard left the doll where it lay, picked up a stray knitting needle, and began to practice her swordplay against invisible foes, using the needle as a makeshift rapier. She was, after all, a student of the Officers’ Academy whether she was a mouse or not. Even as a mouse, she worked to internalize her professor’s lessons from the other day.

But her eyes kept getting drawn back to the doll. A mouse-sized Edelgard just wasn’t complete without a mouse-sized Bernadetta.

Eventually, Edelgard set the needle aside and took the doll’s forepaws in hers, lifted it up onto its hind legs, and willed a common waltz tune to her mind. Keeping time perfectly with the song in her head, she guided the doll across the desktop in the gentle, graceful whirls of a slow dance.

She couldn’t dance with the real Bernadetta right now—not in this state. But this would do for now. True, the fake Bernadetta wasn’t much of a dancer at all and couldn’t correct itself if its paws flopped all over hers—goddess, it was a worse and less attentive dancer than Dimitri!—but Edelgard found herself enjoying the experience all the same. She even began to hum the tune in her head to herself.

She became so wrapped up in the fantasy that she only barely heard the door open.

_“Um… El?”_

Edelgard stopped in her tracks and slowly lifted her head to meet Bernadetta’s gaze. Bernadetta loomed over her like a colossus, her cheeks supposedly reddened by both the wintry wind outside and by the blush blooming on them, as red (Edelgard liked to imagine) as the flowers she and Edelgard had been tending to before their tea party had gone awry.

For once, Edelgard felt just as embarrassed as her. “Oh… h-hello, Bernie,” she squeaked, letting go of the doll and letting it flop to the desktop. “Pardon me. I was merely… admiring your handiwork. You know how impressive I find your dolls.”

Bernadetta giggled. “Y-You’re…”

“I know. My actions were indefensible. I shouldn’t have meddled with your things.”

She scooped Edelgard up in her hands and lifted her up, a bright smile on her face. “You’re _adorable,_ El!”

Edelgard, to say the least, had been expecting a harsher reaction. Bernadetta was a notoriously private person and guided her hobbies zealously, often descending into hysterics if she feared someone might catch a glimpse at her needlework, or her sketches, or heaven forbid, her stories. But those who knew her well enough to see the Bernadetta who often hid underneath her cripplingly low self-esteem and neuroses knew her to be a sweet, gentle, and even playful soul.

“Am I?” she asked.

Bernadetta scratched her behind the ears, then tickled her chin. “You are! You’re Bernie’s adorable little mouse girlfriend! So… you like the doll?”

“I do,” Edelgard said, giggling as the tip of Bernadetta’s fingernail tickled her furry chin. She was indeed Bernie’s adorable little mouse girlfriend, at least for the time being, and as long as that was true, this whole situation wouldn’t be so bad. “It’s a wonderful facsimile: just as soft and as cute as the real thing. If only it could be as warm, as well.”

“Well… I-I’ve been thinking. You know warming pans, right? Fill them with embers or hot sand and put them under your bedsheets to warm up your bed in the evening… I wonder if there’s something I could stuff these dolls with instead of cotton that would retain heat like that and could be warmed up without singeing the felt… dried rice or oats or millet, maybe, or… uh, n-never mind,” Bernadetta stammered. “It’s a s-silly idea.”

“I don’t think so,” Edelgard said. “It’s exactly the kind of innovation my empire needs. Who in all of Adrestia wouldn’t recognize the value of a stuffed doll that keeps you warm in the winter?”

“Y-You’re right! It’s a great idea… i-if I can get it to work…” Bernadetta sat in her chair and set her bag in her lap, rummaging in it with her free hand while holding Edelgard in the other. Edelgard could smell something wonderful inside the bag.

Bernadetta produced from the bag a few pale yellow-white cubes about the size of gambling dice and held them in front of Edelgard. “Bernie’d be a pretty bad girlfriend if she let you go hungry, wouldn’t she, El? W-Well, that’s not gonna happen! I swiped some havarti cheese from the kitchen! Don’t tell anyone!”

“Your secret is safe with me,” Edelgard said, taking the cube from her. It had a semisoft, yielding texture and had a sweet, buttery scent. She nibbled on one corner of the cube and was rewarded with a food that tasted just as sweet as it had smelled, though there were pleasantly salty and nutty overtones to the taste as well.

She kept nibbling. It was _delicious._ She typically disliked food that had too much cheese in it, though she certainly wasn’t against cheese as a component of her favorite dishes. If anything, an entire cube of pure cheese just about the size of her head should have definitely counted as _too much._ But mice did not taste things the same way humans did, perhaps. While she never would have said that havarti cheese was _amazing—_ just fine on its own—this most certainly _was_ amazing.

Edelgard got almost halfway through the cube, shearing away bit after bit with her teeth, before she started to feel overly full and, being a paragon of self-control, set the cube down. “That will do for now. Thank you very much for the meal, Bernie.”

“Are you sure that’s enough? I’ve got some gouda here, too—I know you like sweet things, so I looked for sweeter cheeses—”

“I’ve had plenty for now; if I have any more, I think I’ll be sick. I don’t want you to have a sick mouse on your hands.” She laid down and rolled over onto her back. “I remember back when we were both mice, scampering to and fro in that horrible place on empty stomachs. If I’m going to be a mouse again, then I’m glad that this time I get to be a well-fed one.”

“Claude said that he and Dimitri caught and roasted a rat and ate it while they were down there,” Bernadetta said.

Edelgard shuddered. “Well, I am certainly glad you can provide tastier fare.”

“Well… what do we do now?”

“I know it’s the middle of the day,” she said, settling into Bernadetta’s hand and feeling herself growing drowsy from the food, as one often did when one had overeaten, “but perhaps I could take a nap. There’s little else I can do at the moment. And it _is_ a Sunday.”

“I’ve got some yarn lying around that I could make into a little bed for you,” Bernadetta offered, sliding open her desk drawer. “Ooh, and I just remembered—I’ve been making little clothes for the mouse dolls and they might fit—”

“Little clothes?” Edelgard asked, her interest piqued.

“Uh, n-never mind! Never mind, Bernie’s being stupid again!”

“I don’t think you’re being stupid at all. I’d like to see these little clothes for myself.” Edelgard realized at that moment that aside from her fur, she was naked, and nudity was not very becoming of the crown princess of Adrestia.

“Let’s just forget about it. Now, about that nap, I’ve got a scarf I was crocheting you can bundle up in— _oh, crap!”_

“What is it?”

“This library book is due back today!” Bernadetta gasped, picking up an old botany text from the drawer and staring at it with mounting horror. “If Bernie doesn’t give it back today—oh, no, the librarian is gonna scold you and you’re never gonna be let back into the library and you’re gonna fail and it’s all gonna be your fault, stupid Bernie!” Her face flushed as she worked herself into a panic.

“Now, now, Bernadetta,” Edelgard said, climbing up her arm so she wouldn’t have to raise her voice. “That book is not overdue _yet._ You have plenty of time today to return it.”

“The librarian’s gonna yell at Bernie for waiting for the last minute…” Bernadetta held the book to her chest. “Maybe it’s for the best if I just keep it and pretend this never happened… the book never existed… No! They’ve got a record, Bernie, and if they find out you stole it they’re gonna chop your hand off!”

“Bernie, you just need to return the book.”

“I can’t leave _again!_ What if something happens while you’re alone? Like… if you fall off the desk and break all your bones and die, then Hubert will murder me, and worst of all—I’ll have been a bad girlfriend!” Bernadetta sobbed.

Edelgard climbed across her shoulder and nestled herself in the collar of her hood between the fabric and the warm skin of the side of Bernadetta’s neck. “Then I shall stay right here. We can go to the library together.” She wasn’t exactly sure why Bernadetta’s anxiety made a simple librarian out to be more of a threat than a giant rat wearing a skull for a helmet and wielding steak knives as weapons, but she didn’t need to know _why,_ only _how_ to deal with it.

“Really?”

“Do you think you can stand up to the librarian with me at your side?”

“O-Of course! Bernie can do anything as long as you’re here!” Bernadetta sniffled and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “Alright, let’s go!”

“That’s the spirit,” Edelgard said, and the two of them set off together.

Outside the dormitories, it was cold and there was a bitter wind blowing across the academy grounds, and she had to brace herself against the wind by digging her claws into Bernadetta’s collar and tucking in her face. After another gust of wind Bernadetta drew her hood up over her head.

Fortunately, they weren’t outside for long before they made their way to the library. Bernadetta took a deep breath, clutching the book tightly to her chest, and carefully reached into her hood with her free hand and scratched Edelgard between the ears. Edelgard nuzzled her finger.

“Okay, Bernie… you got this!” Bernadetta told herself. _“We_ got this! I-If you could stand up to a plague rat, you can stand up to a stuffy old librarian!”

She stepped into the library and marched to the head librarian’s office adjacent to the rows of shelves. The head librarian was no longer Tomas, who’d turned out to be a megalomaniacal sorcerer and thus had been immediately terminated from his position. Rather, it was a severe-looking old woman who looked like an amalgamation of every story ever told about an overly strict librarian. Edelgard could see why Bernadetta was nervous about seeing her. She was putting on her cloak and getting ready to leave, as the library closed early on Sundays.

Bernadetta walked up to the librarian’s desk. “Um… m-miss, uh, ma’am,” she said, presenting her the book with shaking hands, “I, um… I, uh… I have a book. It’s due back today—s-so it’s not late, yet, technically…”

“Cutting it a little close today, are we, Bernadetta?” the librarian asked, looking down her nose at her through cat’s-eye glasses.

“S-Sorry to catch you at a bad time.” Bernadetta offered her the book. “B-B-B-But, uh, n-no harm, no foul, huh?”

Edelgard nuzzled her neck. _“You’re doing great, dear,”_ she whispered.

“I suppose,” the librarian said, taking the book from her. “Next time, try not to wait until the _very_ last minute.”

“Y-You got it!” Bernadetta grinned uneasily. It was a fear-smile. “From now on, just call me Bernie the Punctual!”

“For your sake, I hope your new epithet proves accurate. Now run along; the library is closed.” The librarian brusquely ushered her out of the office and set her in the direction of the hallway outside. _“And as for you!”_ she called out to Linhardt, who was in the farthest corner of the library with his cheek plastered to the open pages of a book of spells. _“How many times do I have to tell you not to sleep on the books? You’re_ drooling _on the pages!”_

Bernadetta left the room and closed the door behind her. She took a deep breath. “We did it!” she squeaked.

 _“You_ did it,” Edelgard said, “my dear Bernie the Brave. Now, why don’t we go back to your room? I’d be happy to model some of those little mouse-sized outfits you made for me.”

Bernadetta reached into her hood again and scratched Edelgard under the chin. “A-Are you sure you really want to? I’m afraid some of them might be a little… silly. For you, anyway, I mean. You might think they’re silly. They’re silly.”

“Bernadetta, you’re an artist,” Edelgard assured her, “with a wonderful aesthetic eye. I’m sure none of your clothes are any sillier than the thought of me scampering around with nothing but a coat of fur on.”

The two of them hurried back to Bernadetta’s room, where Edelgard was placed back on the desktop as Bernadetta rummaged in her desk drawer and produced a few articles of clothing. First, a red (presumably) coat with long, flared sleeves, a tabard emblazoned with some fictional coat of arms, a little cravat, and a tall peaked hat with a short brim adorned on both sides with two small ornaments resembling dragon’s wings.

“Try this on first,” Bernadetta said. “It’s an outfit from a fantasy story I read once. Ninth in a series.”

Edelgard put on the outfit and stood up on her hindpaws to show it off. The shoulders were a little loose and the sleeves a little roomy; it was clear this outfit had been made for a doll like the one Edelgard had danced with earlier, with its fat limbs and stubby paws. “How do I look?”

Bernadetta’s eyes lit up. She clapped her hands. “You look adorable, El! It’s really good on you! I—I actually made it for your mouse doll, because in the story the character who wears it is a human-shaped creature who looks like a giant person-sized white mouse…”

She took out a hand mirror and stood it on the desk so that Edelgard could see herself wearing the outfit. She did admit, it looked dashing—like something a dragoon from some far-away kingdom might wear into battle.

“I like it,” Edelgard said. “I presume it’s my favorite color.”

Bernadetta nodded. “Oh! And remember how after we were turned back into humans and you said you wanted to wear an outfit that was all just completely red?” She pulled another set of tiny clothes out of the drawer. It was a long cape that, again, Edelgard had to assume was red, with a white inner lining, and a red skirt and bodice with details embroidered with gold thread. The double-headed eagle and Crest of Seiros, coat of arms of the Hresvelg dynasty, was embroidered onto the back of the cape.

It was love at first sight for Edelgard, who immediately shucked off the first costume and put on the second. Again, the fit wasn’t meant for a real mouse, but it looked lovely. “I think,” Edelgard said, slowly twirling in place in front of the mirror, “this is my favorite.”

“I made it specially just for you, El,” Bernadetta said, her face turning (presumably) as red as Edelgard’s cape. “And, um… also… I made a little crown for you out of felt,” she said, sheepishly pulling a little diadem from the drawer. It had curved horns on each side. “Th-This is what you said the Adrestian crown looks like, right?”

“It looks close enough to me,” Edelgard said, bowing her head to receive her mock coronation.

“Can I style your mane a bit around it? It’s okay if you don’t—”

“Go ahead. I’m interested in seeing what you can do to it.”

Bernadetta leaned in over the desk, set down the crown, and with her delicate, slender fingers she began to slowly work Edelgard’s long mane into a different shape, tying it with bits of thread into two flat buns on the sides of her head. When she was done, she set the crown atop it. Edelgard had always expected the Adrestian crown to weigh more, but she supposed it was the responsibility it entailed that made it so heavy, because this one was as light as a feather.

“There! All done!” Bernadetta crowed, sitting back to admire her handiwork while Edelgard observed herself in the mirror. “You look like a proper emperor now, Edelgard! Like the sovereign ruler of all mousekind, the queen of liberation, the mighty Mousegard!”

Edelgard wrinkled her nose. “Mousegard?”

“It’s a portmanteau of ‘mouse’ and ‘Edelgard.’ D-Do you not like it? I thought it was pretty clever, but…”

“No, it’s a fine title,” Edelgard said, “but I’d prefer you call me El, dear.”

“Alright, El, dear,” Bernadetta said, her smile returning.

Edelgard yawned. “I’d love to try on any more outfits you have,” she said, raising her paw with her mouth to stifle it, “but I think I do need a nap.”

“Of course,” Bernadetta said, folding the half-finished scarf in her hands and letting Edelgard crawl atop the sheet of crocheted yarn. “How’s this?”

Edelgard sank into the bed of yarn. She could still feel the warmth of Bernadetta’s palm supporting it. “It’s perfect, Bernadetta,” she said, feeling drowsier by the second. Not just the makeshift bed, not just Bernadetta’s hand, but all of this. She had been lonely for so long that it often still felt strange to _not_ feel that way, but with Bernadetta, it felt _right_ not to feel so alone. It felt so right, in fact, that she didn’t even mind being three inches tall and covered in fur, or having a tail and whiskers. All she needed right now, setting her ambitions all aside for the moment, was right here.

“The next time I get turned into something,” she mumbled sleepily, “I want to be an eagle. Something with wings, something befitting an Adrestian princess. Or, barring that, a cat. I’d make a very good cat, I think.”

“You would,” Bernadetta agreed, softly running furrows in her fur with her fingertip. “But I don’t mind you being a mouse again.”

“Neither do I.” Being a mouse wasn’t really so bad, though, Edelgard thought to herself. She’d overcome the worst of it already. As long as she was changed back promptly, it was like a little vacation, and very few people knew how badly Princess Edelgard von Hresvelg longed for even a _little_ vacation. A vacation she could spend in the arms—or rather the hands—of her dear Bernadetta von Varley, all the better.

“I love you, Bernie,” she mumbled as sleep came to take her away.

Bernadetta raised her up, leaned in, and planted her lips softly against the top of her head. _“I love you too, El,”_ she whispered.


End file.
